Winter's Melody- Fire and Ice
by MizzMarie729
Summary: Sansa pushed by Little Finger to join him in a plan to reveal Jon's true parentage, leading him to ultimately marry Sansa and take King's Landing and the seven Kingdoms, in which Little Finger's plan turns dangerous in removing the King leaving the crown for himself. As Sansa follows along despite her reservations, she grows closer to Jon, and even falls in love. Jonsa
1. Chapter 1

Sansa sat in her study, looking out at the vast openness of Winterfell, as it was covered in thick snow. She didn't mind the bitter cold nip at her nose as she went to close the window, she had gotten enough fresh air. She had been so lost in thought that she hadn't realized even her lips had begun to sting and go numb. She couldn't control the racing of her heart as she paced, she was not the same little girl she once was… but being back in Winterfell, with Jon reminded her of when she was once young.

' _Get close to him, he is weak, he is a man…_ ' Little Finger spoke softly into her ear, the same thing he had been trying to convince her for weeks since Jon had been proclaimed King in the North. Little Finger had a plan, and Sansa wasn't sure how to tell him no. The more she rejected or ignored him, the more he seemed to be around, hovering over her as if watching over stolen property. _'Why should he get the glory? Why should he get to be King in the North? Why not you?"_ his words would bite at her like frost would warm flesh. _'Get close to him, be his queen…'_ Peytr would caress her cheek, and before he could kiss her she would turn away as if in deep thought.

 _'He isn't even the son of Ned Stark,'_ this had baffled and floored Sansa, such an accusation would ruin Jon. Little Finger began to explain about the knowledge he had been saving for a special occasion. He planned to use it for Robert should the time come he truly needed major leverage to achieve a goal, but he finally knew why he held onto such juicy detail. Sansa tried to deny it, ' _but he looks like my father, that is why my mother always hated him…' 'but if only she knew, how much he looks like Lyanna… there is proof in the crypt. Hidden where she was buried. Take him down there, guide him to the statue of his mother, behind the statue in her crypt will be several things to prove it. I have sent for Howland Reed in your name, by the time he arrives Jon should have found what he needs…'_

 _'But if I marry Jon, where does that leave us?'_ Sansa hated the word but she was not foolish enough to believe Little Finger was going to let her slip away from him, his goal was to seat the Iron throne as King with her as his queen. _'All in good time little dove, I have it all worked out…'_ Sansa shuttered as she pieced together what that meant. As soon as Jon took the Iron throne from Cersei, he would likely kill Jon. The one thing he always reminded her at the end, _'Get close, but not too close…'_ he didn't want her to betray him for Jon.

She spent as much time as she could with Jon, helping him with letters from near by villages, setting up a new village for the remainder of Tormund's people the Free Folk… or Wildlings as some Northerners still referred to them. Sansa couldn't help but feel bad for Jon, he never asked for this… he wouldn't be stuck with all this responsibility if it wasn't for her dragging him back there. He went there for her. For her and for Rickon, who now laid in the crypt with those of her family lucky enough to be laid to rest there. She began to think of her mother whose body was never found, Robb's body which was still missing, her father… whose head on a pike haunted her dreams nightly. Before she knew it she found tears streaming down her face, her room so cold that the tears though warm began to freeze. She tried to wipe them as she heard taps at her door.

"Sansa?" Jon asked as he walked in, she closed her eyes letting his voice melt into her. She loved the sound of his voice, it felt safe. She knew from the many nights her and Jon hid in his study in front of the fire talking about the things they had been through, the things they were to face, and the thoughts and fears they had that he was as damaged as her. They both hid their scars the best they could, but at night they knew they could let their guards down and melt into each other's company, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she tried to comfort his worried tone as he rushed to her side, "I was just thinking. It's nothing."

"You know you can divulge anything to me, right?" Jon said burrowing his brows low as he tried to keep a serious face, "Tell me your thoughts…"

"I was just thinking of them… those not laid to rest in our family crypt, Robb, my mother… father," she tried to sound strong, but her breath nearly left her body when he took her into his strong arms and held her. She couldn't help but rub her face against his thick furs feeling the warmth of it was calming.

"Aye, I think of them, and Arya, and Bran," Jon whispered softly, not releasing his grip.

"But at least we've found each other," Sansa added in as he pulled back, his eyes searching hers. She wasn't one for fond words, he knew she felt close to him by the way she spent every night and day beside him, but to hear it was nice. He had hoped she would open and truly mean when she saw him as a Stark, "can we go for a walk?"

"'Aye, anything you want," Jon felt her hand slip into his, her eyes locked on his, and he felt something weird stir inside of him. He quickly shook it off and stood up, taking her arm in his as they exited her room to walk the castle and eventually the grounds.

"Do you mind…" Sansa started but then shook her head, "never mind…"

"No, Sansa, out with it," Jon grabbed her shoulder to turn her so she couldn't hide her face from him. She gave him a look that reminded him of her mother, the kind that was meant to be a warning. She both mesmerized him and agitated him. Her hair glowed like fire against the clean white snow, especially the droplets that melted in her hair, for a moment he found himself desiring to move it from her hair, his eyes dropping to her lips which seemed to burn pink from the cold air nipping at them. Jon quickly cleared his throat and reached for the back of his neck as he looked around trying to avoid any more of those thoughts.

"Well, if you must know, I was wondering if we could perchance visit the family crypt," Sansa said lowering her face so he couldn't see the lie in her eyes. Jon was silent for a moment, but after a small sigh he returned his gaze to his sister.

"Aye, if it would please you, let us walk through the crypt," Jon turned to face the family crypt, Sansa took his arm in hers and smiled at the ground. Not from the reality that her plan was falling into place, but at the way she had noticed how dashing his curls looked pulled back, dark against the snow… he was large and could be intimidating to those who didn't know him, but she had seen the side of Jon rarely seen before he left to take the black. He was kind, he was loyal, and he couldn't refuse Sansa much. She found herself hoping that what Little Finger had said about him being not the son of Eddard Stark, which shocked her… she had been content to see him finally as a brother.

She couldn't deny that she had never seen him as a brother before, she hadn't even seen him as family, she had treated the family dogs better then Jon Snow, the bastard son of her fathers. The shame of the Stark name. But the moment she arrived at the Nights Watch, the moment she walked through those gates and saw the regal handsome Jon Snow Lord Commander of the Nights Watch standing upon his balcony like some King. She couldn't deny that she found him breath taking and handsome, she thought many nights of it and played it off as relief to finally be safe. But the more time they spent together the harder it was for her to see him as the enemy or competition. She saw him as something else, not a brother, but family… a best friend. It was hard for her to pretend like she saw him as the enemy when Little Finger would track her down and whisper in her ear.

She tried to make it clear to him that she didn't share his vision, but he was determined to play her like the pawn he had before. Jon never treated her like that, he had worked harder at making her feel like she was a part of any decisions made in Winterfell. Sansa was the one person he began to rely on the most for advice concerning Winterfell, the rest of it he layered on Ser Davos.

Jon grabbed the torch from the wall as they entered the entrance of the crypt, walking slowly down the steep hill, Sansa clinging to him for balance. They both looked around, realizing how long it truly had been since they were last there. Sansa watched as her breath turned to frost, the light from the torch bouncing off the walls and ruins of statues left behind for hundreds of years. Sansa surprised Jon when she stopped in front of their Aunt Lyanna's crypt.

"Father never talked of her," Jon said staring up at the cold statue.

"I heard that Lyanna was not actually kidnapped, but that she loved Rhaegar, what do you think?" Sansa tried to pry as she looked over at him, recognizing the dark curls that her father spoke of when he talked of his departed sister.

"False tales to save his reputation I am sure," Jon said indifferently, "if it were true… their love brought down a whole lineage."

"I wonder what a love like that would feel like, to know someone would die for you," Sansa stared at the shadows on her aunt's statue, studying it, knowing there was little to no likeness.

"I would die for you," Jon said softly, not realizing what he said, when she looked at him, he quickly responded, "I would die for you or any of my family…"

"Of course," Sansa said biting her lip before looking back at the statue, removing her arm from his as she walked towards the statue, placing a hand on it. Sansa pretended to trip and fall, knocking into some rocks which seemed to have a domino effect, "oh no!"

"Sansa! Are you alright?" he said quickly grabbing her to help her up, but his eyes were found curious by the look on her face as she stared at a wooden box buried under the pile of rocks. Sansa reached out slowly, her hands shaken in disbelief that Peytr had been right.

"Jon," she said softly, the flames of his torch leaving shadows across her stunned face. She tried to pull the box from the rubble, but it was stuck. Jon quickly helped her remove some of the lingering heavy stones before pulling out the box which was the size of a baby, "We should take this back to the study."

"Are you okay?" he asked as she stood up to dust the dirt and residue off, he could see a flash of her knee which showed scrapes and a little blood, "we need to take care of this."

"This first," she said with excitement that seemed refreshing for him. When he would observe her from afar, alone, she was always so solemn, so reserved and wounded. As if she needed to fight her battles on her own, and all he wanted was to fight them for her. But he knew he couldn't, she wouldn't let him even if he could, he could see that she reserved some of her deepest darkest scars for only herself… he couldn't deny he too hid the parts of him he knew would turn anyone away.

Sansa and Jon were back in his study, the warmth of the room starting to roll onto their skin as if to chase away the chill from the snow. Sansa was the first to sit, her eyes on the box, but her hands frozen around it. She looked at Jon who stood in front of the fire, laying his fur coat onto one of the thick chairs to let it warm up and dry as little water droplets rolled off onto the wooden floor. Jon finally caught her eye, curious as to why she looked at him, almost as if waiting his approval. He gave her a weak smile, signaling to move on, and then watched her as she opened the box like a present. He watched her for quite a while as she shuffled through things, her face in awe as she grew speechless. Finally, he couldn't stand it anymore and broke the tension, "what is in the box?"

"Letters mostly," Sansa said laying them on the table, "A few small trinkets. Oh my…"

"Sansa?" he asked, pushing himself off the wall he was leaning on, and quickly to her side. She held up a large golden ring with a ruby and sapphire, the sigil of a dragon and wolf entwined.

"This is beautiful, look at the detail, a dragon and a wolf entwined," Sansa was breathless as she held the ring into the light, "Jon, this is a box of Lyanna's stuff."

"I can't believe father hid it," Jon said taking the ring from her to examine, a strange sensation of familiarity stirring in his gut.

"Robert was a greedy fool," Sansa said reading through one of the letters, "most of these letters are to father. She wrote him while she was away, he must have brought them back with her body. Father hid them from Robert so he wouldn't figure something out…"

"But what could be so important he would hide It from his best friend and his king?" Jon asked taking one of the letters in his own hands, the fire place lights dancing around the room and along the table, the sun had started to set outside, but they hadn't noticed.

"Because…" Sansa's hand flew to her mouth as everything Little Finger said to her was proven factual, "it appears Aunt Lyanna ran away with Rhaegar Targaryen and married him. Robert wouldn't have allowed that… she wanted to protect everyone, but it appears Robert managed to take things too far as it was."

"This here is a letter to someone else, someone named Aejon," Jon said as his hand trembled, for some reason he could feel they found something important, something like changing, "a letter to a child… her child."

"Jon," Sansa said looking to him, admiring the way the shadows from the fire danced on his handsome face. He glanced over to her and he could see something in her eyes, like she knew something he didn't, "the letter is for you…"

"No, not possible," Jon said dropping the letter, Sansa quickly swooped it up, "I'm the son of Ned Stark and… and…"

"Father never said your mother's name, because it was his sister," Sansa said her eyes scrolling through the letter. She then began to read out loud, "… I know that if you are reading this I must have passed away before knowing you. My sweet child. O how I wish I could know you, I want to hold my son… the one the old lady keeps predicting with the dark curls and dark eyes. She says you will do important things with your life, I only hope to see it. But If you get this letter, then I have not seen any of it. Should my brother find us here, I will ask him to keep you secret, should your father fall in battle and I not live, Ned will take you as his own and protect you from Robert. I asked him to call you Jon, to protect you and to give you the Stark name. But you will be the last Targaryen in the world, I hope that isn't so. It would appear my love has brought down so much pain and suffering, I just don't understand. I know Robert thinks he loves me, and he can't bare the truth I love another… but forgive him as I do for his faults as he is man. Be strong, Aejon, be wise, be kind, and don't let the world tarnish your Targaryen fire fore you are both: Fire and Ice. I hope my brother teaches you well, and loves you as his own. He is a good man, a proud man, and an honorable man. You would be wise to be like him, as I know you will. Know that my every being and fiber is with you wherever you go. Jon, be strong. I hope someday when Ned decides it's time for you to see this, that you understand why your father and I did what we did, and I hope you will forgive us for leaving before you could know us. It wasn't our intentions. May we meet again my beautiful child.

Your ever-loving Mother,

Lyanna."

"I'm not…" Jon was leaning on a chair, his face down hidden under his curls, "I don't belong here."

"Jon, yes you do," Sansa stood up from her chair and was by his side in a flash, her hands on his arm as she tried to coax him to look at her, "you are still a Stark none the less."

"I am still a Bastard, just not Ned Starks Bastard," Jon angrily threw the chair he had been leaning on so that it bounced against the floor before meeting the wall in several pieces. Sansa stepped backwards, her face frozen, trying to hold back the fear his anger mustered in her. Flashbacks of Ramsay when he would visit her chamber made a small squeak escape her lips as she stumbled back, closing her eyes to fight back the memory. The sound she made brought Jon back to reality, turning to see her, he was quickly at her side, his hands on her arms to steady her. He was taken back that she tried to shove him off of her.

"No, no, please," she muttered her eyes pinned tightly shut.

"Sansa, sansa it's me," he said his hands now on her face, trying to bring her back. He could feel her body trembling, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean…"

"Jon?" she asked her body trembling as her hands wrapped over his hands which still clung firmly to her face, she slowly opened her eyes, her chest moving in an out as she gasped for air.

"I'm sorry," he said looking into her blue eyes, "I forgot."

"It's not your fault… what he did to me," her lips trembled as she spoke, her eyes stinging from tears trying to escape her eyes.

"I wish I could kill him all over again," Jon's voice broke as he spoke softly, leaning his head against her forehead, "seven hells I'd torture him over and over. I wish I could have protected you from him."

"It's not your fault, Jon, you weren't there," she said closing her eyes again, feeling the warmth of his hands against her cheeks, his forehead against her, warming up her cold pale skin.

"I should have been, I let my watch be my life and because of it I couldn't protect any of you," Jon sighed, surprised when he felt her hands drop from his and wrap around his neck, pulling him close in for an embrace. He smiled softly as his arms moved to wrap around her waist pulling her close.

"You're here now Jon, you brought me home," she said as her face dug into the crevasse of his neck and shoulder blade. His hands began to stroke her hair as he moved side to side, almost as if slow dancing.

"I am here, and I'll never leave you again," he said into her hair, he inhaled deeply enjoying the aroma from her hair, she smelled like honey, vanilla, and lavender with a hint of orange. Her smell was relaxing to him, and he quickly found himself melting into their embrace, thoughts crossing his mind that shouldn't.

"You are still Jon," she said softly into his neck, her breath felt warm and feverish on his skin, he could feel her lips moving against his skin tickling it. He tried hard to not let his thoughts get the best of him, "nothing changes that."

"But I'm not your brother anymore," Jon said still rocking Sansa, their warmth melting them into one. She was the first to slowly pull away, but only enough so she could look up into his eyes.

"You are STILL Jon, you're my Jon," she said softly, he watched her carefully as she said it, "you are still the annoying boy I grew up with who sulked in the back, you are still the same man who didn't turn me away at Castle Black, you are still the same brave Jon who rushed into battle for our home with less men then needed, and you are still the same Jon I call King. Only now, you are more than a Stark, you are the rightful heir to Kings Landing."

"Sansa," he said in shock, she had spoken so slowly and so forcefully it was as if she was already pep talking him into battle. She was fierce and burning like a flame, how could he say no to her, how could anyone be as beautiful as she was.

"It's a lot to take in right now, but perhaps we should let this all settle in while we rest. I know you have so much on your plate as it is, but this doesn't have to be a bad thing. You are still a Stark," she said taking his hands in one of hers and then lifting up a paper in the other, "for the record, you are no Bastard. You are the legitimate son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark-Targaryen. They were married."

"I need a drink," Jon said letting her hand go before sitting down in front of the brandy. She watched him for a moment.

"Goodnight Jon," Sansa said before kissing his cheek, leaving him unsure of what to say. Part one of the plan was accomplished, now she had to move on to phase two… getting Jon to marry her before Little Finger got mad at her.


	2. Chapter 2

Authors note + Disclaimer: I do not own Game of thrones or its characters. I am not GRM so do not expect my writing to be similar, if you are offended by mistakes and bad grammar please go else where. I don't get paid to write perfect pieces and I have a job, kids, horses and things to take care of to be proof reading and perfecting.

Chapter 2

Sansa sat in the tub, feeling the steam heat her face causing her cheeks to turn pink. She moved her hands throughout the water, closing her eyes as she melted into the water around her. The sweet smell of honey, vanilla, and jasmine surrounded her… it was her favorite part of her bath: soaking in the sweet smells. The water was hot but she welcomed the burn as her body had been frozen to the core. Her fire had gone out while she was asleep in her bed, but her dreams had been surprisingly heated to the point she didn't feel the ice cold of winters chill nipping at her delicate white skin. All day she had been stashed in her room, the toll from the night before had been a lot, and she was still reeling in the idea that Jon wasn't her brother.

Sansa jumped when the sound of quick rushed taps fell upon her door, and then before she could say anything Jon had rushed into her room looking left and right for her when he finally caught a glimpse of her in the tub. Sansa squeaked and sunk further into the tub causing Jon to freeze in his spot before finally turning around still stunned. Though he quickly regretted his decision to not wait for her to respond, a part of him had been over whelmed by the view as his mind painted her into his memory. Her long white legs and arms, her peek cheeks and lips, her fire red hair piled high upon her head with loose wet strands falling into her face.

He swallowed nervously feeling a flush come to his own cheeks as he tried to get the image from his head, he didn't see anything that would be considered inappropriate as the water was slightly tinted and most of her was under water, her arms crossing over her breast. Sansa found a crack in what seemed like an impenetrable wall to Little Fingers plan. Sansa bit her lip and watched Jon as he stood there quietly, she was wondering what ran through his mind, was he grossed out and appalled or something else. It brought back a memory from a bit back with Little Finger.

" _I don't see how this is going to work," Sansa said in frustration. Little Finger stood quietly in front of the fire place, his silence frightened her. Bringing back memories of Ramsay, he was usually at his worst when he was silent._

" _You are not trying hard enough," he said in a low voice, almost as if he was hissing._

" _How hard can I try to make a brother fall for his sister?" Sansa tried to reason with him._

" _You are a beautiful woman, Sansa, don't play dumb," he said nonchalantly, his hands held behind his back. The fire dancing off his dark and gray hair._

" _Jon is Jon, I can't change him. He is honorable, and isn't likely to do something as perverse as sleeping with his sister let alone marrying her," Sansa hoped she could persuade Peytr to leave her at peace and let his plan rest._

" _Sansa, you need to use your womanly charms, like you charmed me," he turned to face her now, slowly walking towards her slowly like a snake sizing up its pray before pouncing. His hand found her cheek, he could see the fear in her eyes and he loved it because it meant he had the upper hand and the power over her he had hoped to gain back, "you deserve to be queen."_

" _Why do you speak in such a way, yet you give me to another man?" Sansa asked skeptically._

" _I give you to no one, you are mine," he said taking her lips before she could resist like the times she had before, "do not forget that. You will be my queen, but first we need to secure your place as the Queen of Winterfell and eventually all of Westeros."_

" _Jon is stronger than you think," she said lowering her eyes from his, she could see his desire and longing in his dark eyes, the kind she wanted to avoid. She never wanted another man to touch her for as long as she held breath within her chest._

" _Jon is a man, in the end he is vulnerable to the same weakness, if the temptation is strong enough," Little Finger stroked her hair as he looked over her body, "as for when the time comes, I'll take care of it myself and then we can finally be together."_

Sansa shuttered at the thought of what he had meant, she didn't dare ask, all she knew was she had to find a way to protect Jon. The closer she got to him the more she found herself enthralled and attached to the long lost Bastard Brother she never cared for. He was more her equal than any other, he felt like the missing piece of her that she needed to be whole again. She smiled softly and the thought of how close they had become in such little time. She had changed a lot, but she had still been a spoiled brat when she first found Jon. She was angry and selfish, but something about Jon and his loyalty, bravery, and honor: even if it also frustrated her.

"Jon," she said as confidently as she could.

"Yes," Jon said finally able to move, he started to walk out of the room as he said, "I'm sorry, I should have knocked."

"No, wait," Sansa quickly blurted out. Jon froze, but he did not turn to look at her, "will you get me a cloth? I was ready to get out anyways."

Jon quietly grabbed a large bathing cloth from the pile on a large dresser in her bathing quarters of her suit. He tried walking backwards towards her as he reached behind him to hand her the cloths. Sansa tried hard not to laugh as she took them from her hand and wrapped them around her. She stepped out hearing some of the water splash onto the floor, the smell of the oils in her bath overwhelming their senses. Jon held his breath as Sansa passed by him, letting her hair down, to fall half wet half dry, the towel wrapped around her but she let it hang low in the back to show some of shapely curves. Jon tried to look away but his betrayed him as they wondered to watch her.

"You can sit, I'll only be a minute," she said thinking back to Peytr's words, _'He is still a Man…'_ she quickly went to her changing area where she knew the light was just right enough that she would be a silhouette behind the thin see-through cotton. Jon sat down slowly trying to keep his poseur, trying to keep control of his own thoughts, "I assume you wanted or desired something?"

"Aye," he said focusing on the words wanted and desired. He found himself beginning to feel like he couldn't sit still, sweat hitting his brow as he swallowed. Watching as she dropped the towel revealing the shape of her womanly body. His breath stopped in his chest as he quickly looked away feeling shame and guilt begin to creep into his mind, "I just wanted to talk about some of the things I found…"

"Okay," she said finally pulling the dress up slowly, each arm slowly entering the arms of her dress to prolong the moment. She wanted so badly to see if it was working, did she affect him at all, and without any warning she felt butterflies in the pit of her stomach… something she hadn't felt since she was a child blindly in love with a blonde-haired prince. It frightened her a little, the idea that she had that feeling again. It reminded her of being young and stupid, a stupid girl with stupid dreams, "Jon?"

"Aye, I'm here," he said uncomfortably.

"Can you help me with this?" she asked walking out from behind her changing area and towards Jon who sat there quietly, uncomfortably. He just nodded as she walked in front of them, holding her dress against herself. Jon stood up reaching down to grab the laces of her dress as he slowly tightened them, staring at her back and observing the details. He observed the shape of her curve, the crease in her back, the random few freckles on her pale white skin that was white as snow. He wasn't sure if he was breathing, or why he was even having such thoughts. He quickly tried to tighten the dress and lace it up, his hands brushing her shoulder as he tied her dress of. He watched as she dropped her arms releasing her hair to fall before him, whiffs of vanilla, honey and jasmine overwhelming his senses once more, "what did you want to talk about, Jon?"

"Right," Jon said clearing his throat and backing away, she gave him a small smile as she tried to hold back a smirk. She then sat on her bed to watch him, "can we go for a walk? I need some air."

"Of course," Sansa said taking Jon's extended hand to help her up. She followed Jon out of her room and through the castle of Winterfell, out into the white covered grounds of the home they loved. Surprisingly they walked in silence for quite a while, Jon was finally coming back to ground after what had happened and the loss of his control on his thoughts, he let out a sigh, "Jon, you can confide in me."

"Aye, I know," he said solemnly, his face was stoic and deep in thought, the face she recognized during the day, but she wanted to see the smile he saved for when they were alone at night sipping at wine and sharing stories.

"Are you going to tell me what's going on Jon? Or shall I freeze into a statue first?" Sansa tried teasing, but his silence was not broken, "Jon…"

"In a moment," he said trying to think, "it's about what we found."

"Oh, I see," Sansa said looking down at the grown, watching as their feet left tracks in the fresh clean snow. For a moment, Sansa forgot about the plan of trying to seduce Jon into making her queen. Sansa was simply there with him, just the two of them, no Peytr, no crown, no scheme.

"We are here," Jon said stopping Sansa and pointing.

The bridges and lookouts around the castle were covered in ice, long ice cycles hanging dangerously: but beautifully. It was like natures work of art, the kind of thing you only get to see once or twice in your life time. The purple and orange glow from the dropping son sent beautiful hues through the ice, it was breath taking, and without thinking Sansa's hand slipped into Jon's. Jon looked down to see Sansa staring at it in awe, and he couldn't help but be in awe at the view beside him, without thinking his hand tightened around hers as if to tell her he accepted her gesture. His breath went still when her head gently rested again his arm. He felt strangely relaxed there with her against him, like she was the rock holding him to the earth. She was what gave him the strength to keep going, even before they took back Winterfell, he was ready to give it up and be nothing, do nothing, just coast and _be._ Now he had a reason to exist, something to fight for.

"It's beautiful," Sansa said against his arm.

"It is," he said looking down at her, he wondered how he had kept so long from truly noticing. He noticed the moment she walked through the gates of Castle Black that she was beautiful and grown up, but he saw her as his sister, was it different now knowing she might not be his sister. It was all so overwhelming, it seemed like right as he was getting a grasp on his new reality, something new would come and shake him up again. Perhaps he was meant to live a life of anxiety to be the best possible version of himself against the White Walkers and the Night King. He couldn't imagine losing Sansa to the White Walkers, the idea was painful, and shocking for him. They were so close, eyes locked that they could feel each other's breath on the wind: a desire to reach down and feel the warmth of her lips.

"You're still Jon," Sansa said looking over to him, her blue eyes meeting his dark ones, "you're still Jon to me…"

"I don't know who I am, not anymore," Jon said watching her, observing the sparkle in her eyes as she watched him, he was so glad that they had become as close as they had… it was unexpected.

"Yes you do," her grip on his hand tightening, but she turned to face him her red hair standing out in the depth of all the white behind her, "you are Jon, you are a protector, you are a Northman, you are my family… brother or not, you have become something more than that to me."

"Thank you, Sansa," he said stunned, a small smile on his face as he turned to face her in return.

"You're now more a Stark than ever before," she said looking at him with pride, "you are the rightful heir to Westeros."

"What if I don't want to be King," Jon said feeling frustrated, "I didn't even want to be King in the North I didn't want to return home…"

"Jon, you're being selfish," she said feeling a little angry with him.

"Selfish?" he asked confused, "because I don't want to a crown?"

"Aye," she said mockingly, "because you're denying your destiny. We will never be safe with Cersei as our queen…"

"Again, you ask me to go to war, to take what I don't want, for what?" his voice rose as he turned from her, "I have enough on my shoulders Sansa…"

"You act like you are alone, you don't ask for help unless it's to make me happy," Sansa was angry and she felt her cheeks flushing once more, "you might not want to go to war but we are going to one way or another Jon."

"Don't tell me about war, Sansa, it's all I've known, fighting is all I've known. I've spent years fighting, I died because of what I fought for, to come back to fight to give you back your home…" Jon turned to face her again, his hand flying in the air to show her the white covered home he fought for her.

"You did this for your family…"

"I did that for you!" his voice was loud, and she could see the heavy weight in his eyes, "I risked it all!"

"You can't turn your back on this," Sansa tried to calm herself but both their blood had risen.

"It's easy for you to say, you aren't out on the battle field," the way he said it for some reason cut her to the core, and she knew she was done with the conversation. She just shook her head, and held back the tears, she wouldn't cry in front of him, so she turned to walk away ignoring him when he called for her.

Sansa sat in the great hall waiting for dinner to be served, no longer sipping at her wine but drinking it harshly until she felt a fuzz in her head. She tried to smile at the conversation from those around her, the table was a buzz in wonder of where their King was as he had not appeared yet for dinner. Sansa sighed trying to remain oriented. Jon and Sansa had many small arguments about things when they first started to live together, but they had gotten better about not arguing. Sansa got up excusing herself before heading down to the court yard where Jon and her siblings had sparred.

She imagined Arya picking on Bran, Jon and Robb sword fighting with Theon egging them on in the background, and there was little Rickon playing with his stick pretending to fight the invisible monsters. Sansa let out a sigh her breath turning into fog before her. She picked up a bow and arrow aiming it at one of the large marks and letting it loose. She had begun to learning archery when they first arrived there, mostly to break the ice with Jon, but she had fallen quickly out of it. She could hit the mark, but never where she meant to. She could hear a soft chuckle in the background catching her off guard, swinging her arms around with the arrow now pointing at Jon, whose hands went into the air.

"Jon?" she asked softly.

"I came to apologize, but it appears you may shoot me first," he said with his hands still in the air.

"Oh, sorry," Sansa said looking at the arrow she had pointed at him and lowering it, "If I shot you it would be an accident, I assure you."

"Aye, with that aim you'd surely miss," Jon laughed dropping his arms, Sansa wasn't as amused she just turned away to go place the bow back where it belongs, "don't worry, you wouldn't be the first red head to shoot me…"

"Right, Ygritte," Sansa said in a way that made her sound jealous, and for a moment she was.

"Sansa," he said softly, his voice growing serious.

"I don't feel like talking right now, Jon," she said stabbing the arrow into a bale of straw trying to avoid eye contact with him.

"Then don't talk, it will make it easier for me to get a word in," he tried joking with her but he could see that she was not in the mood for any jesting. She glanced over at him and then looked away sighing, "I just wanted to apologize for the things I said, I don't think your selfish."

"Yes you do," Sansa said looking over to him, giving him one of the cold stares she would give him when they would argue before.

"Sometimes, perhaps," Jon said taking a few steps towards her, "but more than anything I think you're brave. I think you're strong, kind, intelligent, stubborn, strong willed, and passionate. Things I'm not entirely use to. I'm use to either being agreed with or stabbed. I haven't known anyone like you…"

"What about Ygritte?" Sansa asked sarcastically. Jon let out a small smile she could hardly see in the darkness of the night.

"I knew something similar with her, but not the same," he said, not realizing what he had said, "you may both have hair of fire and be strong, but she didn't have the same tenderness and drive you had. She wanted things her way, everything with you feels natural."

"Jon," she said softly facing him.

"I need you more then you realize," he tried hard to get it out, it sounded more like a mumble. Jon had never really needed anyone before, "I'm not use to that… sometimes it scares me."

"I'm scared too," Sansa said heatedly, "I am selfish Jon. I want everything stolen from me, I want to feel safe, I want my home but not to live everyday wondering when it will be taken from me. I am not passionate or kind, you don't really know me."

"Sansa, you can't mean that," he said grabbing at her hand, but was caught off guard when she pulled her hand from him.

"You were right about me all along Jon," Sansa tilted her chin up, reminding him of Catelyn when she would try to remind him of her power, "You are better off without me."

"Sansa," Jon was taken back by what she was saying. Suddenly she was cold as the ice they stood in, "I don't believe you. You have to know I will protect you."

"I told you before, you can't protect me, no one can. You can hardly protect yourself," Sansa said thinking of Little Finger who was plotting behind Jon's back. Apart of her thought she could save Jon if she pushed him away.

"You are being ridiculous," he said angrily, "I learned something new today, and all I could think about was how I wanted to tell you…"

"Jon, Please," she said crossing her arms.

"If nothing else Sansa, you are my closest person, my friend, my companion, my advisor," he said grabbing her shoulders so she would look at him.

"Jon," her voice broke as she lost strength to push him away.

"Today I read letters between possibly my father and my mother," he said rushed, breathless as his eyes searched Sansa's glossy ones, "their love was impossible and yet they defied everything, everyone, just to be in one another's arms. For some reason, it affected me in a way I didn't plan on, for some reason all I could think of was telling you…"

"Their love ruined lives, their lives," Sansa whispered, unable to control the racing of her heart. All she could see was how beautiful he was, his hair half way pulled back showing his strong jaw and handsome features.

"Their love started a war, I know," Jon said, freezing on his words, "cause I've done the same… even though deep down I knew it was wrong. I wish I could tell you, but I can't…"

"You can tell me anything," Sansa swallowed nervously as he rested his forehead against her.

"I have to leave soon," he took a deep breath and let it out, the warmth of it lighting Sansa's skin on fire, "we are going to dragon stone to meet with the Dragon queen we heard around, we also need dragon glass for weapons. It would be too dangerous to take you, and someone needs to stay here to look after Winterfell. I trust no one more then you."

"Jon, No," she felt panic rise in her chest, "you promise to protect me…"

"And I will… you will be very protected, I will leave Tormund as your personal body guard and there will be protective plans instilled. I leave in three days. I couldn't leave knowing you hated me."

"Jon, please, don't go," she begged as his hand rested on her face. He closed his eyes as he wrapped his free hand around her to embrace her, "Jon!"

"Sansa," he said softly, but he was caught off guard when her lips crushed against his, inhaling him and devouring what she could. He could taste the salt and warmth of the tears that he hadn't seen fall down her cheeks. He let himself melt into her for a moment, his kiss deep and desiring before he came back to reality, "Sansa…. No."

"Why not?" she asked shaking in front of him, he had now pulled away, holding her a foot away from him.

"Because you are my sister," he said looking down at her, "we both know it's wrong."

"You don't want me?" she asked bluntly, as she looked up at him hurt, her pride wounded.

"I didn't say that," he said softly afraid to admit it out loud, "I want it more than anything, but I have to be better than my father."

"I'm not your sister," she said pulling away from him.

"But the rest of the world thinks you are," he said wishing she was still in his arms, "please forgive me…"

"That's right, I'm just selfish," she said angrily, "good night, King in the North."

"Sansa!" he called after her as she disappeared into the dark night leaving him there feeling flustered and angry with himself. He knew he did the right thing, but it was still hard. Jon made his way back into the kingdom to start preparations for the long journey to dragon stone. The thought of her not speaking to him before he left already left a dull ache in his heart, and for the first time since he could remember he hated himself for doing the right thing.

Authors note: I hope you all enjoyed this chapter… I might try to quicken the pace in the next chapter. Let me know what you think.


	3. Chapter 3

Authors note: I do not own the series or characters. I am not GRRM. I haven't read the books, so I am going based off the show, please keep this in mind. I don't know specific details or locations, I make up what I can so please don't leave comments saying how is such and such possible they are in such, or that isn't right cause such and such… or even comments correcting grammar. It's a waste of my time and a waste of yours, and just makes you look like one of those jerks who have to rub in their smarty pantsness that no one ends up liking cause of it. That being said, I appreciate comments of how I am doing things right, what you would like to see, and if need be how I can make the next chapter better. Thanks!

Chapter 3: Letters…

Jon sat in his study, the sound of fire crackling in the background. His mind kept wondering to Sansa and if she was going to be angry with him for much longer. Another part of him was nagging at him, a large wooden box sat not far from him. He glanced back and forth between the paper in his hand and the box that called to him. With a deep sigh and a desire for something more interesting then one of his councilmen's idea on how to control fly populations to keep his mind off Sansa.

Jon opened the box, though the inside was dark, the shudders closed on his window to block the sun and allow him to concentrate, he was still able to feel for the objects. He looked at the ring once more, turning it in his hand, the white dragon and the red wolf… it made him think of Sansa. He couldn't help but wonder what his parents looked like, if they truly were his parents. Apart of him felt like that box was meant to be his, like all his missing answers were lost in there. He placed the ring back in the box and looked through more stuff. A baby blanket he imagined his mother sewed for him, a Targaryen pendant he imagined belonged to his father, a dried up blue rose, and a lot more letters he hadn't even begun to read yet. He unfolded one that smelled beautiful, which the scent made since when a beautiful dried flower only found in Winterfell fell from the folded letter.

 _Rhaegar,_

 _Your letters are beautiful, and full of sweet words. I fear my father's wrath should he find such letters, I've hidden them to my best abilities under the floor boards of my room. I wish to see you again soon as well, though I fear its been long since I've seen your face. Do you truly mean it, that you would marry me? A part of me feels sorry for those whom love us, we leave pain behind… but my love for you haunts me so. I wish I could stop this burning desire to be near you, to feel you, to touch you. I suppose I must be wicked, but how does one stop loving their souls mate? I will keep an eye out for your letters and hope for your return, many speculate after the tourney about us, I've done my best to keep it a secret, but I think Ned suspects. He is smart my brother, I will miss him the most when we leave. Do you still come for me?_

 _With Love,_

 _Always your Lyanna._

Jon placed the letter down as he rested his chin on his hand. _I wish I could stop this burning desire to be near you…_ Jon could understand Lyanna's feelings all too well. She knew her love was wrong and would destroy people, but she didn't realize that the power of those they hurt were stronger than they were. Jon couldn't help but wonder if he wrote her back, but he couldn't find return letters from Rhaegar so he decided to go the one room in the whole castle their father had locked to preserve the way she left it the day she was stowed away.

Jon walked briskly down the hall, a part of him wanting to go to Sansa's room, but the other leading him to the room his father never let anyone visit. The one he would catch Ned sometimes leaning against and talking too, almost as if she were on the other side listening to him. He always wondered what father would be saying to aunt Lyanna through the door, but now he realized that it was uncle Ned talking to his mother from behind the door. Jon hesitated as he stood in front of the same door Ned spent many nights talking to, he felt a strange presence almost like someone was in the room.

With a hard nudge the old dusty door flew open. Dust covered the floor and the bed, cobwebs had over run the walls. He had a mind to have someone come and clean it out so he could see what it truly looked like when his mother had been there. It was cold and draft gave him the chills as he stepped in, the floorboards creeping with his presence, his head turning side to side as he observed the room. A vase sat on the window sill, dusty and old with dead brown flowers. He felt something sad and lonely in the room, and then he felt it, a weakness in the floor. Jon dropped to his knees and pride the old rotting wood from the floor to reveal a large hole his mother had dug from the dirt and rocks that laid beneath it. Jon didn't know why but his heart raced, he reached down to feel a small box tucked down.

Jon blew on top of the box to watch the dirt fly off it, using his hand to remove the rest of the debris. He wished Sansa was with him, and he felt a dull ache in his heart once more. She would have loved the mystery, and she would have soothed his nerves. Shaking the thought away, Jon left the room and headed back to his own suite. He rushed as quickly as possible until he could close his own door behind him. He took a seat close to the fire so that he could see better what he was looking at. After opening the box, he found quite a few letters, and some trinkets. Rhaegar constantly sent her presents, including a small white gold crown of blue gold roses with diamonds along the vines, and a wolf and dragon entwined in the front of it. Small, but beautiful. More simple rings of diamonds, rubies, and sapphires, little carvings of jade and alabaster animals, a horse, a wolf, a bird, and a dragon. Jon looked through the letters until he found the one he was looking for.

 _My Dearest Wolf,_

 _Your words give me strength and joy, to be away from you is painful. I want to come for you, and I will; I promise. I know you ache to leave as soon as possible, but I am sorry. We must wait a little while longer while I try to set my orders straight. I yearn to touch your beautiful dark locks, to taste those winter lips, and hold you in my arms. Soon we will be together, and we will make a life for each other. I will not let anyone, not even the Gods, stop me from making you mine. You mean the world to me, and I will make you my wife, and my queen. To show you that I am still forever yours I send you a token of my love, a pendant passed down many generations, and one I hope to pass down to our child. I leave a lot behind, but I need you, and I hope you will await me. I come. I swear it._

 _Forever yours,_

 _Your Dragon Rhaegar_

Jon put the note back into the box as he sat back to think some. He pulled the pendant from the other box and observed it. It was a large golden circle with a white dragon and roses in the center, the detail work was fine and exemplary. It was a true master piece, and looked to be almost like a badge of honor. Jon turned it over and over again slowly in the light of the fire, observing it, and remembering it. He then placed it back in the box before grabbing a letter from the box. He grabbed another letter but this time from the box he found buried behind his mother's statue in the crypt. He now realized why Ned didn't like taking Robert into visit her grave and statue, in fear he might stumble across what Lyanna wanted hidden from him.

 _Rhaegar my dearest,_

 _I must withdraw my former request for you to come to me, I have had a change of heart. I cannot hurt those I love, and who love me. You have a family, you have a wife, and you have children who need you. What we are doing is selfish. Robert will never let me go, and though I know he could not make a good husband nor a faithful one, he would never do what I am about to. So, who is worst? My love, I hope you can forgive me, but I must stay where I belong. Please send me no more letters, contact me no further, for I fear I would break. It is hard now to say goodbye to someone who makes me whole. I must be honorable like Ned, he is so brave and strong, and he will look after me when I cannot look after myself. I cannot shame my family by eloping with a man I am not betrothed to. I am sorry. Please find forgiveness in your heart to not hate me, and I hope you and yours to be happy._

 _Lyanna._

Jon was stunned by what he had read, Lyanna had actually had second thoughts about running away with Rhaegar. What would have happened had she just stayed put and married Robert. He would not have been born, but Sansa would never have met Joffrey or Cersei, she would have been safe and spoiled. She would have known no pain in the world, or at least he imagined not. Lyanna had turned on Rhaegar as Sansa had on him… so perhaps there was hope yet, or again, so he thought. Jon grabbed he next letter, the one from his father.

 _Lyanna,_

 _I will not let you shut me out. You are mine. I am yours. I will never let Robert have you. He can have his whores and you can have me. Elia is a kind woman, a great woman, but she is not my soul mate. She and I both know this, she is my friend and I am hers. You, my beautiful Lya, are fierce and willful, and you are kind in heart as well… so I can see how this seems the right response. I do not mean to speak so abrupt or rash, but my heart dies a little each day I do not see you. From the first moment, I laid eyes on you, you were riding through the woods when I was traveling, I had never seen anything for free or beautiful. I wished to be free. I wished to be wild and unchained, but I am a Prince. My envy turned to love and I knew I must write you the first letter, to get to know you. If I hadn't done that, I wonder if I would have been so carelessly in love to still leave those blue winter roses in your lap. For you are the Queen of Love and Beauty, and you've stolen my heart, whether you meant to or not. Do not let our love be tainted by those who don't understand, I come for you, we can sneak away quietly and marry as planned. I am coming. Wait for me._

 _-Your Prince and Love,_

 _R.L_

Jon sat quietly in thought, his mind racing from the things he had read. Lyanna wanted to do the right thing, but Rhaegar was not going to let her get away so easily. Apparently, it worked for not long after they stowed away for a year. His stomach turned at the idea, of what a young 16-year-old Lyanna must have felt when she lay their dying, not knowing what happened to her lover… if he was dead, knowing she could never say goodbye to him. He felt sorry for her, and it made him hope Sansa never became with child whether she married or not, the idea of losing her to birthing a child was unbearable… and for some reason the idea of her carrying someone else's child was just as unbearable.

Jon was caught off guard by a loud knock at the door. Again, another quickly timed knock. Jon called to the to enter, still stuck in his head. A young servant, heavy in breath from clear excessive quickly movement, probably running, told him Lady Sansa had requested his urgent presence as The Young Lord Stark of Winterfell had returned home. Jon was quick to his feet when it finally clicked, Bran had returned home. Another Stark was finally back in Winterfell, did this mean he wasn't needed anymore? Would Sansa turn him away now that Bran was back, now that Bran could help her keep Winterfell? When he walked into the room he found himself breathless, staring at Sansa who was kneeled beside her brother who now was nearly as tall as he was.

"Jon," Bran said with a smile, his sister holding his hand.

"Bran, you're home," Jon smiled back at his once little brother, and he couldn't help but still feel like he was his little brother. Jon walked beside Jon, his eyes glancing down at Sansa, she quickly averted her gaze.

"I have so much to tell you, first I'd like you to meet Howland Reed," Bran made a hand gesture to an older man standing beside a young curly haired gal, "that is also his daughter Meera Reed…. She saved my life. I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for her. Jon I have something very important to talk to you about, in private, if you wouldn't mind…"

"Aye, Of course not," Jon said standing up from his crouch position, he glanced over at Sansa again, her eyes were sad even though this time she did not look away. They were locked for a moment, his dark eyes on his mothers.

"Howland, Meera, Jon… shall we?" Jon said as Meera went behind his chair to push him.

"What about Sansa?" he asked looking between them.

"Of course, Sansa you must come," Bran smiled at her. He looked at her in a way that made her feel bad, like he knew something about her she didn't know yet, like she should hate herself/

"I'd like Ser Davos, and Tormund to be with me, as they are privy to anything I know," he said looking at his two must trusted people. Bran nodded, and then they followed Jon to the meeting chambers where they all sat and listened to Bran's tale. Sansa kept looking over to Jon who was to wrapped up in Bran's words to be anywhere else mentally. She sculpted the shape of his face in her memory, but she also felt the loss of power with both Bran the male heir to Winterfell and Jon who should be King of Westeros. Where did that leave her? Now that she had a taste of power how could she let it go?

"You look like her," Howland finally spoke up, staring at the son of the woman he adored and respected like so many others. The girl who defended him when bullied by three squires, it was she that connected him with her brothers, which began a lifelong friendship with Eddard Stark, "Eddard would dislike that I'd jest that she was the pretty version of him… she would be proud of you, Jon."

"I wish I could have known her," Jon said stoically, trying to remain calm and king like.

"She loved you, and she would love you still were her spirit and not just her bones were here," the sadness in Howland's voice was heavy and desperate, "she was too good for even Rhaegar, I think even he knew it, and that's why he swept her away."

"Jon," Bran said softly leaning forward, "there is a chance I could show you what I have seen… so you can see them."

"That would be amazing, Bran," Jon said stunned, not sure what to do. Bran held out his hand waiting for Jon to take it, he wasn't sure why he hesitated but for some reason fear was taking over.

"It's okay, Jon," Bran encouraged, trying to reach out further. Jon knew that if Bran could show him, then there would be no doubt, he couldn't deny it anymore… he'd no longer be Ned Stark's bastard. Jon sighed and took Bran's hand, for a second nothing happened, and then like a picture was thrown at him he was rushed into images that moved quickly. His mother young and riding her horse. Lyanna grown into a young beauty, desired by many especially Robert and Rhaegar, his father handsome and strong. Some would say he fought like Jon, but Jon had Ned to help him become better. When Bran's hand left Jon's, it made Jon fall backwards into his chair like someone shoved him. Sansa stood to go to him, but then slowly lowered herself remembering they were mad at each other. Jon looked to her, he could see the worry in her eyes, and she could see the fear and amazement in his.

That night they held a great feast, but Sansa did not attend. Jon felt the ache of her absence, wishing he could talk to her. He didn't know how to fix what was happening between them. He began to ask himself, what would his parents have done… she he push her away as his mother tried to do to his father, or should he be like his father and rush to her forcing her to acknowledge him. Jon for a moment had a sad thought, the kind of thought he always had about the mother he was never told about, _if only I could have known them,_ but what would it have done. How had things changed if Lyanna lived, if Rhaegar killed Robert instead? What kind of world would they be living in, would he be making Sansa is bride, betrothed by Ned and Rhaegar? Or would he be forced to marry a young princess, like Maergery Tyrell? He tried to lay in his bed and think of anything else. But for some reason… he couldn't.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 3: Mercy

Jon lay in his bed trying to sleep, but all he could think of was Sansa: and the kiss. He couldn't deny he had been thinking of a kiss like that for a while, and found himself thinking that he felt more of a spark then he had ever felt with anyone in that one moment their lips touched. When Jon did finally fall asleep he dreamt of his mother and father, eloping, and a war starting because of it. He saw them die… and then he saw Sansa die, which made him wake in a sweat. He didn't even put his shoes on, just threw on a heavy robe over his nightwear as he rushed down the hall to Sansa's suite.

"Sansa," he whispered through her door, but he heard nothing so he gently pushed it open. He quickly closed the door quietly behind him as he tipped toed to her bed. There she lay asleep; her fur covers only covering half her body. He couldn't help but observe the way her hair fell around her, the way the moonlight from her window danced on her skin making her glow, and then her cleavage which peaked out dangerously from her white silk night gown, "Sansa…"

"Hmmm?" Sansa moaned, rolling over and sitting up as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes, "Jon?"

"Aye, it is," he said softly, "I can't stand knowing you hate me…"

"I don't," she said sleepily.

"Good," he said softly, not sure what else to say.

"What are you doing here Jon?" she asked with seriousness.

"I don't know," was all he could think of to say.

"Is that all?"

"I don't know," he said softly, "it's difficult…"

"What is?" Sansa could hear the frustration in her own voice.

"I feel for you the way Rhaegar felt for Lyanna," he said softly, "it's dangerous. Who would have thought that you're the one I've waited on, the one I dreamed of? Now that I know for sure, it's hard to let go, I don't want to lose you…"

"You don't have to," she said scooting towards him.

"What can I do? I can't give into my feelings, I can't divide the North because of what I want. But I would give up my life for you if you want it, I'd give you my heart but you already have it Sansa. I'd do anything, I'd go anywhere, anywhere you wanted me to. When I look into your eyes all I can see is my happiness, our happiness. I don't think I could offer you anything, I would just weight you down like an anchor. If this is how he felt about her, then I know why he died to be with her," Jon spoke so softly she almost couldn't hear him, "you've got ahold of me, don't even know your power. It seems like I fall when I am around you."

"Jon," Sansa was stunned by the things he was saying, she didn't realize he felt the same… he always played his feelings so cool that he was hard to read.

"Sansa, I…" he was struggling to say the words, "I love _you_. Strangely of all the people, it's you."

"You shouldn't love me," Sansa said thinking back to Little Finger, his love for her would be the end of him, and she couldn't imagine a world without Jon Snow anymore.

"It's not like I can turn it off, Sansa," he said in a 'are you serious' tone.

"I'm damaged," Sansa said softly, she wanted to tell him she loved him too.

"So am I," he said taking her hand and with his free hand placing it on her cheek, "I always knew there had to be somebody for me out there, and I finally feel like I am complete when I am alone with you."

"Jon," but before Sansa could reject him anymore he had pulled her to him and kissed her. He was surprised that she didn't reject him, but her arms wrapped around him, her hands tangling in his hair as she met his passionate kisses. The taste of her tongue was intoxicating to him as he pulled at her waist trying to bring her as close to him as he could. With little time, she had climbed into his lap, her long legs wrapping around him as one of her hands moved down to his tunic to untie it. She felt him pause and go still, "Jon?"

"Are you sure…" he asked looking into her eyes. He had only ever given himself to one woman. Sansa just smiled and put her lips against his as she tried to reassure him it was what she wanted. It was all she wanted, which surprised her. She lifted his shirt from over his head, the moon and stars lit up the scars all over his chest and torso, for a moment her breath was taken from her lungs as she imagined what they looked like fresh. Jon could see the pain in her eyes as she observed what had happened to him, and so he quickly took her lips to his. It was quick, her dress was pulled over her head and tossed to the ground.

Jon gently laid Sansa down as he observed the perfection before him. His hand gently ran down from her chin to her neck over her breast and swollen nipple to her torso until he reached between her legs where he froze after leaving a trail of goose bumps down the path his finger had made. He leaned down and laid a kiss on her mouth before he began to touch her, moving his fingers in circles as he teased her until he felt her bud begin to bloom. He left trails of kisses along her jawline, down her neck, and her breast. She was perfection there in front of him. He loved the way she moaned, and wiggled before him. Sansa was caught off guard when his kisses trailed down her stomach, to her thighs and then replaced where his hand was.

Sansa bit her lip as she tried to keep herself together, unfamiliar with the pleasure he was bringing to her. She gripped her pillows as she slid her feet against her sheets when finally, something happened to her body she had never experienced, leaving her panting and breathless. When Jon made his way back up and kissed her, he was pleased to see she was surprised by what had happened. Sansa moaned and gently dogged her nails into Jon's back as she felt the tip of his hard member pressed at the entrance of her womanhood. He needed to hear it, he needed the reassurance that she wanted it too.

"Please," she begged before leaning forward to kiss his lips. The passion in their kiss grew like wild fire until he couldn't control himself anymore and he plunged deep inside of her. She felt like every wire in her body was lit, she couldn't help but let out moans of joy and ecstasy as he moved in and out of her. Her hands ran over his body as she took all of him in. The warm throbbing of his member inside of her felt so different than anything she ever experienced, and more importantly the desire and emotion that came with it was almost too overwhelming. Finally, she felt him come undone inside of her, collapsing on her, she could feel his heavy breaths matching her own as she wrapped her legs around him.

"Sansa," he whispered in pants. She made a sound of acknowledgement and found his eyes staring deeply into hers, "I wish to neve leave this room, this bed…"

"Then don't," she said smiling at him, enjoying the feeling of his fingers tracing the shape of her face. He looked at her like she was possibly the most beautiful thing in the world, and for a moment she felt like none of her past ever happened. She didn't realize she could feel that happy, that whole and complete.

"You are a temptress, surely," he said kissing her chin, then her cheek, and finally her lips. He then finally rolled over so that she could lay on his chest.

"Stay with me forever, Jon," she said softly closing her eyes. He kissed her hair and began to stroke her arm gently with the tips of his fingers until he heard the sweet sound of sleep as her breathing had returned to normal. Soon, he too was overcome by sleep.

There was a knock at the door as the light beamed in on Sansa and Jon, waking them. Sansa quickly shoved Jon off her bed when her handmaiden came in to take dirty sheets, clothing, and replace with new one. She also drew her lady a bath and prepared it with Sansa's favorite oils. Before leaving she left a tray off fruit, cheese, meats and biscuits for Sansa to snack on, as she often liked to have if they weren't having a breakfast feast.

Jon laughed out after the young girl left, moving from his hiding spot, a sheet wrapped around his waist. Sansa had a robe on that she quickly grabbed, thankful the young girl didn't notice that it was the kings robe. Sansa let out a small laugh too before grabbing a grape and popping it into her mouth. She then quickly tried to tidy up her hair.

"No, no, you look beautiful," he said removing her hands from her hair, his hands slipping down until they were around her waist.

"You lie, my Lord," she joked teasingly as her hands landed on his strong bare chest. His lips found hers, he loved the way she felt pressed against him. She gently shoved him playfully, in which he put his hands up and walked backwards until he fell into one of the chairs in her room. Sansa teasingly, slowly dropped one shoulder of the robe and then the next, watching his face as it grew serious and full of desire, a fire in his eyes… she let the robe drop to the floor. He looked breathless as he looked over her body, with the day's light revealing all he missed in the nights soft lighting. Sansa climbed over him, straddling him, her lips landed on his as his hands ran down the length of her body. It didn't take long until Jon was hard and wanting, and before she knew it he was inside of her, his hands cradling her buttocks to help move her as she moved up and down. She was over whelmed by the different feeling she got riding him that way, her back arched as her head went backwards, one of her hands on his shoulder and the other reaching back onto his knee.

"Sansa," he moaned as they came undone together. She felt a fire ripple through her as she hooked her arms around his neck for support, breathing heavily against him.

"Jon," she swallowed as she tried to catch her breath, his hand in her hair around the base of her neck as he kissed her deeply.

"How could I ever leave now?" he gasped still trying to steady his breath as she now lay against him, still straddling him.

"You can't," she whispered into his ear before biting it. He gave a small laugh before kissing her shoulder.

"You've bewitched more than my mind," he joked feeling the sudden ache to be inside her again. Like a craving, he couldn't quench, "your bath is going to grow cold."

"I suppose we shouldn't waste it then," she said kissing the side of his jaw before giving him a look he couldn't resist. Hands entwined she led him to her tub where he climbed in first, and then she climbed in in front of him. Sansa leaned up against his hard body, she swirled the water around as she closed her eyes and relaxed. She couldn't remember a time she ever felt this happy, and to think that her once upon a time bastard brother was the one she belonged with. He gently scooped water and let it drip from his hand onto her skin as he rested his chin on her head. He was surprised by how content he was. They found themselves speechless, for the first time, and spent a good while in the tub before she finally spoke up, "Jon?"

"Hmmm?" he opened his eyes to see her turning to face him, so the front of her body was pressed against his.

"I know you think this is wrong," she said looking down, Jon's face turned to one of something sad, he didn't want her to feel like that, "but I don't think it is…"

"Sansa…"

"No, Jon, really," she said looking back up at him, "Father, well my father, told me back when I was betrothed to Joffrey, he would make me a match with some brave, strong, and kind. I didn't realize it back then, how could I, but he meant you. You are all those things, he always knew it and saw it, you could see the pride when my mother wasn't looking. He would have told you the truth…"

"We are still cousins," Jon said, appreciating what she said, "and I doubt he planned to marry us."

"You don't know that, and our grandparents were cousins much like many other couples. Cousin engagements were often crafted to hold up bloodlines, and convenience," Sansa bit her lip and looked down, "Ned meant you. Who else?"

"You are truly wonderful," he said kissing her forehead.

"So I'm not awful anymore?" she joked nipping at his neck.

"Aye, you're awful in another way," he joked, a growl deep in his throat as he gripped her waist pulling her into a position where she was once more straddling him.

"I suppose I have been withholding the king from his subjects," Sansa teased as she felt his cock begin to stir under the water.

"Aye, indeed, but this King welcomes being held hostage," he said as he splashed some more water on her. Sansa smiled as she lifted herself onto him, she slowly dropped down letting him inside, teasing as she slowly moved. Sansa met his kisses with her own, the taste of his mouth was overwhelming. She felt a need she never felt before. But as all good things must, the moment came to a beautiful ending. Now it was time to return to the real world.

"You know, we should return to our guests before they leave," Sansa said softly, "assuming they plan to leave."

"A little bit longer, I just need a few more moments with you alone," Jon said kissing her lips, enjoying the warmth of the bath and the warmth of her skin against his.

"What was it like?" Sansa asked softly.

"What was what like?" he was curious about what she was referring to.

"Seeing what Bran saw," she said just as softly, her eyes not meeting his.

"It was amazing," Jon said with a smile the was quick like a flash, "I never knew my mother, after father, your father, passed away I assumed I'd never know a thing about her. But now I have seen her face, and I have heard her laugh. I've seen my father fight, and I've seen him love like no other has love before… not until now."

"Jon, you tease me so," she smiled trying to her face in his chest. His fingertips found her chin and gently lifted her face so her eyes met his.

"I could never be more serious about anything," he said firmly, "I learned through my parents you fight for more then what you believe in, you fight for what you love. I love you, Sansa. I don't know when or how, I just know I do."

"Jon, I," she couldn't quite make the words out, it was like suddenly she remembered that Little Finger was in the background always watching, and he had a plan for her. She had power over Peytr, but it grew smaller the more he forced of her, "I've never been happier…"

"Aye, nor I," he said kissing her lips, "I have something for you…"

"For me?" Sansa leaned back a little to study his face.

"For you, indeed," he said giving her a couple quick kisses before getting up to leave, "I shall be back. But I'd like to give it to you somewhere special, so dress if you can."

"Yes your majesty," she jested as she stood up before him, the water running down her naked body, every beautiful curve calling to him.

"You are going to be difficult aren't you," he growled as he stepped towards her with his towel around his waist. Sansa nodded deviously with a wicked smile that dared him to kiss her, and of course he obliged before quickly turning on his heels to exit the area before she could bewitch him any further. Sansa smiled big, taking a step out of the tub and grabbing her robe and brush. She put the robe on first and then sat before her mirror to brush her hair. It wasn't often they soaked and fully cleaned their hair with how cold the weather was, but she didn't care if her hair froze onto her head, she had never felt so giddy in her life. She couldn't help but wonder, as she watched herself brush through her wet curls, what Jon was going out to get for her.


End file.
